Saving Marshal Givens
by SassyJ
Summary: Loretta McCready's slightly shop-worn cowboy knight in shining armour has gone missing. Raylan's boss and co-workers are unconcerned, so Loretta enlists the help of Raylan's unlikely cheering section, Constable Bob. Bob is forced to open the emergency pack and unleash a terrifying force upon Kentucky. Raylan's sister, Raejeanne.
1. Chapter 1

Loretta MacCready had not reached the age of fifteen without realizing a thing or two.

The essential truth about Deputy United States Marshal Raylan Givens was that he was a creature of habit, and a man who kept his word. He saved her life after that creep tried to kidnap her. Raylan gave her a cell phone and told her to call him any time day or night and he would drop what he was doing and come for her. He was a man of his word, he came for her that night she found what happened to her daddy, and he saved her life again. And later he got himself shot saving her from screwing her entire life up forever.

He helped her into the foster system. Despite the unpleasant attitude of the state social workers who viewed any man with suspicion, Raylan had left her the phone, he topped it up from time to time, and he would take her out once a month to the local Dairy Queen where she could eat her own weight in ice cream if she wanted. While he indulged in a vanilla cone and gently probed her about her life as a foster child.

Sure, from time to time he blew her off their monthly frozen treat because he was working. But he always called her, either to apologise or move the time.

He never forgot her or failed her.

Then he didn't show on their appointed Sunday. By Monday afternoon he hadn't called. By Monday evening she had called him three times, it was going straight to voicemail.

She felt annoyed, but couldn't leave him a pissed off message, because this was Raylan. So she kept trying.

By midnight she knew. Something was wrong.

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He had, if he was being honest, walked into this one with his eyes open. Sharon had called, and he had jumped. Fear of not being able to provide for his daughter was eating away at him.

Now it looked like he wasn't going to live to see her born.

His head hung forward, chin resting on his chest. His wrists were bound together, fastened up high above his head, they still throbbed, he could feel his fingers, stiff and sore. His legs were cramping, his calves bound to his thighs forcing him to kneel. He hurt so much, all over his body, but even that pain was beginning to fade. He knew it wouldn't be long now.

Tears rolled slowly down his cheeks for all that he was about to lose. They were the last vestige of warmth he felt as the black enveloped him and he lost consciousness.

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First thing Tuesday morning, Loretta dug in her tattered little purse for Raylan's precious card. Even though his numbers were programmed into her phone, she wanted the general office number. She wanted to speak to his boss.

She dialed and waited in a fever of impatience for an answer. Secretary, hold the line, she fidgeted from foot to foot.

_Mullen_.

A gruff voice answered, she recalled older man, Kentucky but not Harlan, "Raylan's missing. You gotta go look for him." She launched into her speech before she could forget and make a mess of it.

_Miss…_ He paused, she could almost hear his thought processes. _Who is this?_

"Loretta MacCready." She snapped. She could hear it in his voice, he wasn't going to do anything. "Raylan was meeting me Sunday afternoon. He missed. He always calls me if he's gonna miss. I tried his cell it just goes to voicemail."

_Miss MacCready, _she could hear the frown in his voice and under any normal circumstances she would worry about how much trouble she was getting her protector into, but these were not normal circumstances. Raylan was missing. He could be hurt, stuck somewhere and he couldn't get help. _Marshal Givens is suspended from this office…_

"I know that." She cried impatiently. "He was going to meet me, buy me ice cream, he missed, and he never called, he never misses without calling." He's just not listening to her, and she can feel her frustration build. If she was an adult he would listen to her.

She wanted to say more, but her foster mother was at the foot of the stairs shouting about the school bus, and getting the younger children ready, and he wasn't listening to her, with a frustrated huff she rang off.

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Art Mullen replaced the receiver. He hadn't known that Raylan was still seeing the MacCready girl. He could hear the hitch in her breathing as she begged him to look for Raylan. Clearly Miss MacCready had something of a hero worship going on.

Well Art was not about to dash in, Raylan was still on suspension, and the chances were he had planned to be away and had just forgotten his ice cream date with Loretta.

They had a lot on their plate, being down a man in such a small office was mighty inconvenient. He simply didn't have the resources to chase such flimsy evidence.

He picked up the phone and dialed. Raylan's phone went to voicemail, as Loretta said it would. Art left a message, telling Raylan to call him back. When Raylan's suspension was finally over, he would have to have a long talk with Raylan about inappropriate friendships and becoming involved with cases outside of the office.

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Loretta was through messing around. Raylan's boss and co-workers wanted proof. Well she would get it. She had a library period at eleven. Which was her opportunity to set her plan in motion.

Constable Bob Sweeney loved Raylan and his badass ways. Loretta knew Constable Bob, and she knew what would appeal to his sense of justice.

Tracking Constable Bob down was child's play to a determined young woman with imagination and newly acquired computer skills.

He didn't want to be involved, he didn't want to help her, but then she told him it was all for Raylan. That may be it would save Raylan's life and he agreed to meet her and help her.

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Bob Sweeney was surprised to learn that Loretta knew where Raylan lived, and even more surprised when she told him exactly where Raylan's hidden spare key was.

He said as much.

She huffed at that. "Raylan tol' me anytime I didn't feel comfortable with the foster family that I was to go to his place and call my social worker from there." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Raylan saved my life. THREE TIMES." She was working to keep the tremble out of her voice. "He's the only one who cares a damn about me." It broke a little then, and she could feel the tears start to fall. They took her daddy from her, and Raylan had filled the gap, he cared. She wasn't going to lose him too.

Bob patted her hand, debated whether or not to give her a hug, but she pushed him hard. "Go look." She hung her head, being rude would not find her friend, "please."

Bob muttered something about jurisdiction and this not being his place, but he got out of the battered old Gremlin and headed into the bar.

It was midday, and the place was roughly half full, easy enough to slip up to Raylan's tiny little apartment unseen. The spare key was exactly where Loretta said it would be. The place was cold, it had an unused feel to it, which said to Bob that no one had been in there for at least a couple of days. That made sense, if Raylan went out on Saturday night… and never came back.

There was a small notepad and a pencil by the phone. Bob twisted it and turned it trying to see if there was anything written on it. Silently thanking the Hardy Boys books he had read as a child, Bob picked up the pencil.

Very carefully he shaded over the indentations, it was an address, not one that Bob recognized, but then he wasn't in Lexington very often. Bob's position didn't pay much, but he made extra on every notice he served and his private security deals and watching brief kept him going. Enough to buy a GPS unit.

He pulled his notepad out of his pocket and wrote the address down. Leaving Raylan's notepad on the table. If anyone came looking they would be pissed that he had interfered with evidence.

_Dammit, Raylan._ He sighed irritably.

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The address was an out of the way house on the north east side of Lexington, large houses set back from the road, horse farms, not the sort of place that Bob would have expected Raylan to find trouble in, but Loretta wasn't about to give up.

"I'll just go on up and take a look around, if anyone sees me I'll say I'm lookin' for my dog."

"now… I don't know about that…" Bob was about to give his unexpected passenger the benefit of a piece of his mind, when she slipped out of the car and was off up the drive before he could say a word.

Bob thumped the steering wheel "well shit!".

This was way out of his comfort zone. If it was Raylan, he would be fine because he could just follow Raylan's lead, but this was Loretta and a whole different kettle of fish. So he was going to call her, and she wouldn't be happy when she answered, but he couldn't do this on his own.

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Raejeanne Givens listened patiently to Bob's garbled explanation. She was perfectly calm when he finished, and Bob rather thought that was the most terrifying part. She didn't yell at him. She just announced that she would be with him by nine pm and then if he had not found Raylan by then, they would be lighting a fire under law enforcement in the state of Kentucky. In the meantime he was to keep Loretta safe.

Bob hung up the phone and pondered exactly how he was going to do that, before a whirlwind named Raejeanne Givens arrived.

He had the feeling that this Jeannie being out of the bottle might not be a good thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Art Mullen blew through the door at a run, Rachel and Tim hurrying after him, and skidded to a halt.

Bob Sweeney was standing by the doorway to a room that Art assumed was Raylan's, then Bob was almost forgotten he caught a glimpse through the window as the nurses moved around their patient.

It was bad. Every bit as bad as Art's imaginings from what the State Trooper in charge had said on the phone. Tubes and wires going to Raylan's arms and chest, disappearing under the neckline of the gown they had wrapped around him. The gown barely covering the heavy bandages over Raylan's shoulders, dressings formed a patchwork on his arms, down to more heavy bandages on his wrists. That was just what Art could see, the blanket hid the scrapes, cuts and rope burns on Raylan's legs, the other marks, cuts and bruises all over his body, the ends of his broken ribs pushing against his skin.

There was an oxygen mask over Raylan's bruised face, helping him breathe, and Art recalled what the Trooper said Raylan had been kicked and beaten, strung up like a side of beef, then cut with a box cutter. They'd found that when they'd searched the barn where little Loretta McCready had found Raylan.

Art shot a glance around the room. Rachel had moved up to the window, eyes fixed on Raylan, Art could see her lips moving, he imagined it was a prayer. Tim had shot one look through the window and turned away. He was leaning against the wall, hunched into himself, grief and pain etched on his normally stoic face. Loretta was sitting off to one side in a chair, legs drawn up, arms around her knees. Art could see she had been crying, still was perhaps, her cheeks were pink-stained and blotchy.

She was staring at him, a hard look in her eyes. She still looked grief-stricken and scared, but angry too.

"Bob." A voice cut across Art's reverie, and he turned. Not before he caught the flash of utter misery on Bob's face.

For a few brief seconds he thought he was dreaming. No hat, but the spitting image of Raylan, until you took in the gentle curves of her chest, and the womanly lines of her hips. Tall, lean, whip-slender, just like her older brother. They could have been identical twins, except that Art knew from Raylan's file that he had a sister, Raejeanne, and that she was eight years younger.

And Raylan had been incredibly close-mouthed about her. Never even mentioning her to Art's knowledge. He figured that brother and sister were estranged, like father and son.

It only took that one look to figure that his calculation was completely wrong. Brother and sister were close. Very close.

Her expression went tight and icy, brown eyes narrowed out to cat-like slits, and he felt pain then seeing the ghost of Raylan's features and expressions in Raejeanne's face.

"Chief Deputy Mullen, I presume." At some point Raejeanne Givens had clearly eradicated every last vestige of Harlan and Kentucky from her speech, only now it was seeping through the cracks. Her auburn hair not yet ghosted with gray, like Raylan's, but her tight jeans, and checked shirt beneath a down vest more than recalled Raylan's dress sense, and Art was struggling. Dully, he nodded.

"Forgive me if I seem a little slow," he could hear every inflection that was Raylan's and it was shredding his nerves, "but weren't you supposed to be looking out for my brother's well-being?"

Every possible excuse turned to ashes in his mouth and died. They _had_ left Raylan alone to get on with it, Art had even looked forward to the peace he would have in the office with Raylan out for a whole month.

Raejeanne's eyes glittered, "So, like that idiot Grant, you assumed that because Raylan carries a gun that somehow he would be safe. Because no one in Harlan County ever tried to kill a Federal Officer?"

She shook her head. "Unbelievable."

Art wanted to deny it, but he couldn't deny that he had probably made an error of judgment leaving Raylan to cope alone.

Now Raylan's sister clearly knew everything, and obviously a lot more about what was going on with Raylan than Art and Raylan's colleagues did.

"Raylan knew he could…" Rachel cut in then, trying to defend her boss.

"Rachel Brooks." It was a statement not a question, and Rachel couldn't help but flinch at the tone.

"Yes. I…"

"My brother trusted you. Said you were the one person he was certain would have his back while he was out."

That bit deep. Art and Tim taking it that Raylan was unsure of his boss and his colleagues, Rachel feeling a tightness in her chest that she had brushed Raylan off only a week before.

Truth was she didn't know what to do about her attraction to Raylan. He was trouble, and she knew it.

Raejeanne glared. "Sadly, that isn't the case, is it?"

"I…" Art finally found his voice. "I'm sorry."

"That's supposed to make everything that Raylan's been through alright?" She snapped, clearly gearing up for one hell of a fight. The clack of high heels on linoleum interrupted her.

Raejeanne scowled. "All we need." She turned and shot Raylan's ex-wife a truly evil look. "Winona."

Somewhere in Art's overloaded brain he noted that Winona Hawkins looked taken aback, and downright nervous. It was clear that the two women knew each other.

"Jeannie?"

"Thought you could just pop up and manipulate my brother some more. Didn't you?"

Winona's eyes flashed. "No… I…"

"I know all about it. Of course Raylan would never say a thing against you." She took a deep breath, "Okay." Raejeanne scowled, "right now Raylan needs rest and care, I am not having all of you trying to make nice with my brother. So until further notice, it's family only. His sister, his daughter Loretta and his cousin Bob."

"But…" Winona was still looking angry, "our daughter…"

For just a second Jeannie's angry expression slipped, Art could see the sorrow, fear and exhaustion in her face. "Winona. Just…" She turned away, "Ray needs me, so all this is gonna have to wait." With that they were left standing there as Loretta joined Raejeanne and entered Raylan's room.

Art watched her exchange a few words with the doctor, and then she slipped into the chair pulled up close to Raylan's bed.

"Loretta's Raylan's daughter?" Rachel raised an eyebrow.

Bob looked a little uncomfortable at that. "Social worker came here, looking for Loretta. She had words with Jeannie. Loretta's staying and she's in Jeannie's care now."

"Apparently when Raejeanne Givens says jump, the only question is how high?" Tim's muttered comment made Art glare at him, but noted that the sniper was now gazing through the window, his eyes fixed on Raylan's temperamental sister. Admiration in his tone, and Art wasn't so old and comfortably married that he couldn't recognize attraction when he saw it.

He shot Tim what he hoped was a quelling look. The irrepressible sniper gave him one of those bland looks in return. The look that hid a multitude of sins.

Winona was still standing there. Open mouthed at Raejeanne's audacity. Art thought back to the moment Winona had crashed back into Raylan's life. The bad choices Raylan had made then. Art winced, thinking about the night that Raylan nearly died at the hands of the two nurses. He wished that he had insisted the paramedics take Raylan to hospital that night. The cowboy was doped up and in a very poor state, he'd tried to tell Art in the car that he wanted out of the Marshals' service and Art had just dismissed his feelings.

No wonder Raylan hadn't turned to Art for help or advice. The chief deputy had never even stopped to consider how difficult any of this was for Raylan. The night Tom Bergen died should have stopped them all in their tracks. But it didn't.

Arlo Givens hadn't just shot Tom because he was defending Boyd from the trooper. He had shot Tom because he believed he was shooting his own son.

Even then, they had all just brushed through it, not even made much of an attempt to understand what Raylan might have been struggling with. Raylan was hit very hard by Tom's death, the two had been friends, and almost everything that Raylan had done that night was done in anger and overwhelming grief and a sadness that Art realised that Raylan hadn't really shaken off.

Bob had moved from his position blocking the door to Raylan's room to a chair that he had moved right next to the door. Art had realised that Raylan and Bob were friends when Raylan had lit out to save Bob from the Detroit mafia. That Bob had saved himself, and then come up with the plan that got Rachel and Drew safely out of Harlan, and Raylan's admiration for the man should also have given Art a clue.

Raylan Givens' closest friends were a local constable and a teenage girl.

It didn't say much for the office that no one had even questioned that Raylan might have been in trouble when Loretta had phoned in. They had all just assumed it was Raylan and he would sort himself out.

Art moved up to the window, he couldn't go in, and he didn't blame Raylan's sister for the veto, Raylan was in a bad way and he needed rest and care. Art had a whole new strategy to think of, one that took into account the emotional needs of his deputy.


	3. Chapter 3

Art read the letter slowly for the fourth or fifth time. It was typed, and the standard of grammar was definitely better than Raylan's, but the expressions were pure Raylan, and he could barely stand to see the shaky signature in the space at the bottom.

Raylan's injured wrists were causing the cowboy severe pain, to force his fingers around a pen to sign that letter must have been agonizing. It spoke volumes as to how badly Raylan wanted to leave.

Art couldn't leave it there. It was his fault that Raylan felt abandoned, like no one listened or cared. Perhaps if he could repair some of the past mistakes, Raylan would let him tear the letter up.

Raylan was still on sick leave obviously. So Art had a chance to make it right. Then if Raylan still wanted to go, Art would put the letter in.

Wearily, he got to his feet. It had all been going so well, Art was confused where everything had gone so wrong. Raylan had caught Drew Thompson, Art would be retiring soon, and Raylan was young, fit and ready to go, though Rachel would have been Art's first choice, Raylan would fill Art's seat well.

Promotion and responsibility, together with the increased salary would have been Raylan's, now it was all crumbling to dust and Art couldn't just leave it like that. He looked out at Tim and Rachel, they were closest to Raylan, but it was a small office as Art had told Raylan when he first arrived, Raylan's resignation would affect them all.

For better or worse, he needed allies in this fight. Raylan needed to know that his friends _did_ care. Art tapped on the window. Tim looked up, and Art beckoned to him, stabbing a finger in Rachel's direction. They were at his door in seconds.

"What's up, boss?" Tim appeared his chipper self, as if Art didn't know that was a blind for Tim's true feelings. Rachel was quiet, but Art could see the wariness and pain in her eyes. Seeing Raylan in the hospital like that had been a shock for them all, but Rachel seemed to be taking it particularly hard.

"We have a job to do…" Art motioned for them to sit, and returned to his desk. This was going to be hard.

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Jeannie gently stroked her brother's hair back from his face. He was so weak and tired, and in so much pain, this was worse than one of Arlo's beatings. He was messed up emotionally too. When she had gently coaxed most of the story out of him, she had seen the agony in his eyes. Arlo being dead afforded her a level of satisfaction she knew wasn't exactly healthy, but Raejeanne Givens hated her father. For what he had done to her, and her beloved brother too.

Raylan's hand came up, his touch on the side of her face brought tears to her eyes. "Oh Ray…" Very carefully she captured his hand against her cheek. His sleepy smile made the tears fall.

"Hey." His voice was quiet and a bit slurred, but it was still her Raylan.

"Hey y'self." She didn't care that her accent was showing. The hated accent she had worked so very hard to eliminate from her speech.

Five days since they had brought him in. He was healing, but it was slow, his emotional state was poor. He clung to his sister, and while Jeannie reveled in being with the brother she adored, she was worried about him. The letter was the clue to everything, and it had taken her a while to coax the sad, dreadful story out of him.

He cried. Jeannie held her brother in her arms, Raylan never cried, not even when beaten by Arlo. His distress made her even more determined to keep people at bay until Raylan was better.

As angry as Jeannie was with Winona, they had a child. And Winona at least had cared enough to come to Raylan when he was injured. Surrounding Raylan with the people who really did love him seemed the way to go, and Jeannie reluctantly included Winona.

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Winona sat in Art's office, crossed her long, impossibly elegant legs. "Art, what do you want to know? Because I'm not sure I can help much."

"Raylan's relationship with his sister, Raejeanne. What do you know about that?"

"That it's close, very close. I'm close to my sister, but there's something very special between Raylan and Raejeanne." Winona studied her nails. "Jeannie was at our wedding. Don't know how she got there, didn't even know Raylan had told her, she was just there. Until three weeks before we married I never even knew he had a sister, and watching them together was eerie. It was like a secret club, I could look through the key hole, but I would never get the key to the door. They even finished each other's sentences."

Art looked startled. He had never suspected that Raylan's relationship with his sister would be as strong as that.

"I didn't know."

Winona looked at him sadly. "How would you? Raylan never talks about her. To the outside world, he hasn't got a sister. With Raejeanne, from the few times I have seen her, I guess it's the same. No one in her world knows she has a brother. They see each other maybe once a year. And when they're together, it's like they have never been apart. It's spooky."

"What about Raejeanne?"

Winona laughed, it sounded a little bitter to Art's ears. "Believe me Art, if you ever get into a conversation with Jeannie, you will realize that Raylan's the open book who never shuts up in comparison to his sister. In my wilder moments I used to think that maybe she worked for the CIA. She is that uncommunicative. But she's a librarian."

She shifted on the chair and leaned forward. "What's this all about, Art?"

Art had the grace to be uncomfortable. He picked up the letter and paused, he was about to break a rule or two.

Winona looked at the paper in his hand, her expression turned sad and thoughtful. "He resigned?"

Art nodded. Less of an admission if he only nodded.

"Oh Raylan." Pain and sorrow chased each other across Winona's face. She stared hard at Art. "When we were together, all I really wanted was for him to get out of the field. But now? Even with Franny, I know that this is a big part of who Raylan is." She paused, to get her emotions under control. "How's he going to be, if he gives away the one thing that he knows how to do?"

"I don't know."

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He really didn't know what to expect when he arrived. Jeannie was still angry with the Marshals Office, and Art supposed he could scarcely blame her, but his entire attention was focused on Raylan's back.

He hadn't seen the younger man's wounds before they were dressed; but they were changing the dressings now, Raylan was on his side, the hospital gown open at the back, and the nurse had peeled away the old dressings.

_Cut with a box cutter_. Such mundane words, barely encompassing the reality of it. Art had expected Raylan's back to be cut, but never in a million years would he have believed what he saw.

The heart shape cut out with short, shallow cuts on Raylan's back. Someone had deliberately sliced the skin, Art looked at the damage and bile rose up in his throat.

He pulled himself together with an effort. "Raejeanne, I need to talk to your brother."

He could see she wanted to say no, see the tears in her eyes, saw her glance at Raylan, the unspoken communication between brother and sister.

She looked back, and nodded.

Art walked into the room and pulled up a chair by Raylan's bed.

Up close, Raylan was pale and Art could see the pain in his eyes.

"Raylan." It wasn't even a question, but Art read the answer.

"Art. I'm done." The words were slurred, Art leaned forward and patted Raylan's hand awkwardly.

"We don't need to talk about that now." He needed to steer a course back to promotion and Raylan's bright future.

The hazel eyes fixed on him had a spark of the old Raylan in them. The Raylan he knew.

"I'm done." A little less slurred. "Art, I can't do this anymore."

"Later, Raylan… when you've had another rest." Art waved a finger casually towards Raylan's meds button. "You might want to push that. We'll talk when you're better."

Raylan's head turned on the pillow, the half-closed eyes focused on Art. "I'm done." His finger pushed the meds button. Feeling like a complete heel, Art gently patted the hand nearest to him.


	4. Chapter 4

Winona shifted Franny around on her hip and quietly entered Raylan's room. She was surprised to get Jeannie's pass to visit, but happy. Or she would have been happy if Raylan's condition had improved more. He was still weak and tired easily, depressed, barely talking to anyone other than the chosen few.

He was on his side, and Winona's eyes avoided his back. Knowing that he'd been cut like that made her sick.

"Raylan." She called softly, not wanting to startle him and was rewarded with a sleepy smile.

"Hey." His eyes were fixed on the baby, and Winona could hardly blame him for that. He eased over very slowly onto his back, and Winona tried very hard not to show her concern when he flinched as he settled. Then he held out his arms, she leaned over and placed their daughter on his chest, using the bed apparatus to raise him to a more seated position.

Raylan's arms closed around Franny and he gently hugged her to him. The baby's fingers grasped at her father's and played with the hospital id tag around his wrist.

Winona sat back down and fought the lump in her throat as Franny's tiny fingers explored her father's hands and arms, and his chest, avoiding the sensor pads and wires still hooking him up to various monitors.

All too soon, Raylan started to pant a little with the baby's weight on his chest. Winona stood up to lift Franny again, and Raylan rolled onto his side as she dropped the bed back down to horizontal. Trying to pretend that she couldn't see the distress on Raylan's face.

"hey," she put Franny back on the bed next to her father, Raylan's arms closed around her, and Winona watched the tears trickling down. She had never seen Raylan like that before, and it was upsetting.

"Raylan. Darlin'" She tried to soothe him, stroking his head gently with her free hand. He was wheezing, struggling to breathe, and Winona clutched their daughter tightly to her as the nursing staff ran in.

She could do nothing, accept back away as the crash cart was called for. Raejeanne was by her side, and her voice seemed very far away. Winona couldn't tear her eyes away from the crowd of people around her ex-husband. Raylan was dying there in front of her.

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Nightfall, and Jeannie was exhausted. Raylan's condition had deteriorated, he was back on the oxygen, fighting for every breath. Visitors were only permitted in scrubs with a mask, they had shot him full of antibiotics and sedated him as his body struggled to heal.

Winona had hung in there until they had finally managed to stabilize Raylan. Jeannie told her to go home, Bob had left, and Loretta was settled on the cot that they'd put in the family room.

Jeannie changed her clothes, they had done all they could do, it was up to Raylan now. But she didn't know how much fight he had left to give. His body so brutally beaten, his mind nearly as battered as his body, even everything that Arlo had done to her brother over the years paled in comparison to this.

For the first eleven years of her life, Raylan had looked after and loved her, and she had worshipped the ground he walked on. He had protected her, and stood up for her, and Jeannie was trying to return that favor now. The brother she loved and had spent too much time apart from was fighting for his life.

Jeannie reached out, and wrapped her hand around her brother's, taking some joy in the warmth of his fingers, and settled in for a long, tiring night.

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Art watched brother and sister through the window. At first he thought that he might woo Raylan back to the marshals and have him take back his resignation easily, but now he wasn't even sure if Raylan would survive.

Thinking of all the things he had, and more crucially, had never said to Raylan Givens. How he had handled Raylan's crises, from getting jumped by an escaped convict to sleeping with Ava, the shootings, Arlo… the ridiculous feud that killed his aunt, and the psychopaths from the Dixie Mafia.

Then there was Reyes.

Dan Grant was on his way up from Miami, and Art only hoped that he had some better news, because LPD had squat.

"You know he's dying." Loretta's Harlan accent was thick with emotion, Art turned to face her, she came to stand beside him, staring at Raylan and Raejeanne, "Raylan's the only one left who cares a damn about me now. He came for me when they killed papa, and he came for me when Mags…." She choked a little, shook her head, stiffened her spine. Looked up at Art. Her voice barely above a whisper, "I lost papa, I can't lose Raylan."

He had never felt more uncomfortable and he really didn't know what to say to comfort her, because he was all out of ideas and comfort was beyond him. He watched her face crumple, and she leaned forward. He wrapped his arms around her and they stood there together, watching and waiting.

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"It's not Reyes." Dan Grant was exhausted, almost eight hours of travelling would do that to a man, and he was only almost certain that Gio Reyes was not behind the attack on Raylan Givens.

Art eyed his fellow Chief, "y'look like shit."

"You do too."

Art nodded towards the window, Grant got his first proper look at his former Deputy. He paled.

"Yeah." There was real pain in the word. Art raised his chin, "so we have nothing."

"So far." Dan peered a little closer. "Jeannie?"

That piqued Art's curiosity. "You know Raylan's sister?"

Dan actually looked a little sheepish. "Met her last year. 'Bout three months after Raylan transferred to you."

Art's left eyebrow arched upwards, reaching in vain for his hairline. "Take it that wasn't a particularly happy meeting?"

Grant shuddered slightly. "It was off the record and she wasn't happy."

Art sighed again, "ain't exactly a surprise." He wondered what Jeannie knew about this, and whether Raylan had confided in his sister.

"You staying?" he said to Grant.

Dan nodded. "Got a room sorted, but I thought I would hang on for a while here, see if there's any news."

Art reached into his pocket. "Coffee?" It was going to be a long night, he still had hope that there would be a happy outcome, because dammit Raylan was the most stubborn man he had ever known, and the younger man had so much to live for.

_Live Raylan… please._


End file.
